


Gifts

by geekmama



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Jumpers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: ...her birthday was three months ago; he had never done such a thing and why was he starting now; was something wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-[Honorable Intentions](http://archiveofourown.org/series/439375), for the "Shapes" prompt.
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“It’s a gift.”

Molly stared. “What… a _gift?_ Why?”

“Your birthday.”

She frowned.

He watched her trying to formulate a reply: her birthday was three months ago; he had never done such a thing and why was he starting now; was something wrong? Exasperation made itself felt, as well as a certain heat at the tips of his ears, and he snapped, “Just open it!” rather more sharply than he probably should have done.

One brow rose slightly, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Presently, without further comment, she obeyed.

Her smile grew less conflicted as she addressed the task, untying the ribbon and slipping her fingers beneath the folds to carefully loosen the tape. As he’d suspected, she was one of those sentimental and/or overly frugal souls who saved and reused gift wrap, and there was a sense of satisfaction in having taken pains to select paper she would like with ribbon to match, and to do the job neatly. (It was difficult to remember when he’d last done such a thing, possibly for his mother, when he was still at school, so a couple of decades...)

Setting the paper carefully aside, she removed the lid from the box, drew apart the tissue, and gave an “Oh!” of real delight. She lifted the garment in her hands.

“A jumper!” she said in wonder. “It’s… beautiful! And so soft! And…” She studied the elaborate knitted pattern adorning the front, a collage of varying colors and shapes: spheres, rods, spirals, corkscrews. “Sherlock, are these microbes?”

“Yes.” He was pleased with her quick apprehension. “I was shopping online for a gift for Mycroft when I saw this and thought of you.”

She looked up at him, chuckling, and he couldn’t help his answering smile, she looked so happy, though his expression slipped somewhat as he divined her intention and subsequently acted upon it. His breath hitched oddly as she set the jumper down and enveloped him in a rather fierce hug. After only slight hesitation, he returned her embrace. The feel of the whole encounter was quite… moving.

She released him, all but his lapels, at least, and looked up again. “Thank you!”

He cleared his throat, and said, “It’s little enough. Considering.”

She looked suddenly worried. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” He felt slightly offended, though he knew it was a logical concern, considering his history. Their history.

“You don’t need anything?”

It occurred to him that he did. And she was standing right there, his lapels gripped in her hands. “Ummm…” He took her hands (small, cool, slim, strong, yet soft) and gently loosened their grip. “You’re wrinkling my coat.”

“Sorry,” she said.

He was oddly reluctant to let go of the hands. But he did, in the end.

“Sorry,” she said again. “Wh-what did you get Mycroft?”

“Oh.” As though emerging from some dream. “A plush Orthomyxoviridae.”

She gave a bark of laughter. “A flu bug! As a get well gift, I suppose.”

“Mmmm. You heard he’s succumbed?”

She nodded. “Poor Mycroft.”

He sniffed. “I’m taking flowers, too, though they’re more for Anthea. She may need therapy, soon. He’s no patience for being ill.”

“Whereas _you_....” There was a smile in her eyes as her voice trailed off.

“That’s different,” he said, giving her a glare.

“Of course.” She was trying not to laugh. “You’re going to visit him then?”

“Yes. Thought it would be pleasant to gloat a bit, and Mrs. Hudson’s made some chicken soup and asked me to deliver it.”

“That was kind.”

“Do you want to come?”

She stared again. “Now?”

“Why not? You’re off, are you not?.”

“Well, yes. You timed it perfectly.”

“Of course.”

"But… will he mind, do you think?

“Nooo.” Sherlock wrestled with a smirk.

The brown eyes narrowed. “Sherlock--”

“It’ll be fine!” he insisted. We’ll just drop the gifts off and wave from across the room.”

“Well… all right.”

“And you can wear your new jumper.”

She gave a charming snort of laughter. “Oh, that’s awful!.”

“Yeees. No! Maybe a bit.”

She grinned. “I’ll go change.”

As he watched his pathologist and her new jumper depart in the direction of the locker room, he groped in vain for another word to describe the happiness and sense of well-being that suffused him in the presence of Dr. Molly Hooper.

 

~.~


End file.
